In Glass Houses
by Carolyne Lestrange
Summary: Bellatrix has lost herself to her husband's life choices and suffers the consequences of his choices. He tries to break through her walls.


**_My FCs for this are:_**  
_Bellatrix Lestrange - Katie McGrath_  
_Rodolphus Lestrange - Ian Somerhalder_

_Enjoy! - C.  
_

* * *

Rain. It always rained now. It seemed like the sun hadn't shown itself in years. October dragged on in a frozen lull of rain that fogged the windows and forced them to remain in the same quarters. The house seemed frozen in time as day after day the walls grew darker with their tired eyes. Tired. Tired of fighting, fighting the war at hand, fighting each other. Tired of endless days and silent nights and cold beds. The light layer of dust falling on the mantle grew heavier each day.

He was somewhere, she knew, in the house. That was the beauty of the gaudy thirty room mansion he'd purchased for her in their courtship: the fact that they could be lost from the other. The silence weighed heavily on her ears, as she stared at the window, the drops running down her face mimicking the teardrops racing down the glass.

She tried. She'd done everything she knew to do to be the wife that Rodolphus Lestrange deserved. She dressed the part, said the right words, knew all of the right people. She'd done well until the Christmas gala, a year after their marriage. That was the night she met him for the first time.

_"Bellatrix, I'd like you to meet someone," _he'd grinned, taking her by the arm as any gentleman would, proud of the lovely women by his side. She obeyed quietly, curiosity stifling any flame of resistance. _"This is Mr. __Tom Riddle__, love. The man I've been telling you about."_

"Pleased to meet you," she answered automatically, offering her hand, "Bellatrix Lestrange." Her eyes couldn't quite gauge the man. She'd imagined him so differently. Rodolphus spoke of a man who promised to change the world, to rid them of the lesser, polluting species once and for all. He praised him as though he were a king, a lord, the one and only authority. This man seemed docile and calm, eyes that searched her soul and managed to reflect warmth.

_"The pleasure is all mine, I assure you,"_ he smiled. She nearly jerked her hand back at the inhuman sound, the hiss that seemed to dance in his words. But despite her hesitation, she found herself mesmerized by the beauty of the tone. She stood quietly, nodding and laughing at all the timed moments as the men spoke of things she didn't really understand then.

_"I'll be seeing you soon, Mrs. Lestrange?"_ he asked as the couple began to withdraw. The confusion on Bella's face was echoed on her husband's. They exchanged a perplexed glance before looking back at Tom. _"Well, you can't expect to keep someone like this from me, can you?"_ he smiled again, venom in his eyes.

Possessive nature taking over, Rodolphus half stepped in front of his bride, subconsciously shielding her from the inherent threat. _"I don't think — " _  
_"No, Rodolphus, I fear you've misunderstood my intentions. I want very much to train her. She'd do well with the ranks, from what I gather. Popular belief seems to be that she could fare quite well," _Tom hissed again, though the look in his eyes as he glanced over Bellatrix showed that Rodolphus' initial assumption hadn't been far off. _"I trust I'll be seeing you both next week?"_

The fighting had begun then, that very night, and it hadn't ceased, not even now, nearly a year later. They swore and cursed and hexed and fought, with fists and magic, with words and glares. Bruises and blood and shattered glass. Clouds of profanity and hatred woven into the tapestries that hung on the walls. Rooms of the house resembled a battlefield.

A knock. Softly at first and then louder. It pulled her from her memories, back into the dark room where the rain trickled down the windowpane, the drops gathering on the windowsill as an audience._ "Bella."_

"Why've you come?" she asked without taking her eyes off of the window, without wiping the tears from her dead eyes, without hiding her broken body that, so pale now, nearly blended with the sheets but for the black dress that hung loosely from her jutting bones. She made no effort to hide the defeat in her voice, the loss in her entire being.

_"Perhaps I should leave for a while,"_ he said after a silence that seemed to linger forever. He'd crossed the room, sitting on the side of the bed, but not daring to look at her, to look at the destruction. She didn't respond and the guilt settled finally. He forced his eyes to take her in, the bruises on her pale skin that looked so much harsher than his own; a gash on her thigh; the satanic black scar on her forearm that seemed to smile at him as he watched it writhe there on her porcelain skin.

She didn't even move, no telling signs on her face. He finally took her arm, the one blazoned with the smirking mark, in his hands. His rough, calloused fingers ran over it softly. How foreign it looked there on her snow white skin. He'd done this to her, forced her to this point of surrender. He was the reason for her life being signed over. Her scars were his burdens to bear. _"This is my fault."_ She was his monster.

"Fair enough."  
She was speaking to him now. That was a change. Perhaps.. no. He'd never sink to that level, to letting her see him weak. But maybe he could coax her into forgiving him.. _"I shouldn't have done this to you. I — "__  
_"You ruined me."  
_"I never meant to." _

"I'm not that stupid little girl who thought she was going to get the fairy tale, Rodolphus. The one that you married that thought she could change you," she sighed, eyes focused on a single drop on the glass, "Fix you. I know better than that. You don't have to try and get me to trust you. I always have and I never stopped. If I didn't trust you I wouldn't be here right now."

His eyes lost their train on her mark, ignored the scarlet stains on her collarbones and arms. They settled on her face, still so strong in the aftermath of what must have been a horrifying state in her mind. He might not have returned her adoration, he might not have loved her. But now, staring at her features, the ones he was so fond of, he understood the true depth of her love for him.

She never looked away from the glass.


End file.
